


Companion Preference: Blonde

by wishwars



Category: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon, Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon (Anime & Manga)
Genre: (it's an adorable old man), Angst, Companion Usagi, F/M, Medical Resident Mamoru, Misunderstandings, No Sailor Senshi, Original Male Character - Freeform, Pining, Romance, She's not a prostitute - it's complicated
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:54:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28488633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wishwars/pseuds/wishwars
Summary: Feeling lonely and desperate, Mamoru places a call to hire a companion. Imagine his surprise and confusion when he opens the door to find Usagi outside! What is she doing there and what, exactly, will happen now?
Relationships: Chiba Mamoru/Tsukino Usagi
Comments: 9
Kudos: 21





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've already had this story posted for awhile on Fanfiction.net and thought I might as well put it up here too. It's not finished though it will (eventually) be finished - I promise!  
> Please note, I'm doing something perhaps a little unorthodox with the characters, but I think it still fits. I hope you enjoy it!

After checking her makeup one last time in the mirror, Usagi left her dorm room with a small wave to her roommate, Molly. Usagi had been rather excited to find out her roommate was coming all the way from America and she quickly found Molly to be very sweet and shy and (best of all) she wasn't nosy. For instance, she never asked Usagi who she got phone calls from at odd hours, where she went when she left her room, and why she often dressed as if she was going on a date, but never mentioned any of the guys she was seeing, like Usagi was sure her other friends would have.

No, Molly was exactly what Usagi needed right now. She couldn't imagine what some of her other friends would have said or done if they knew what she was doing – had been doing for almost a year now – and Usagi had never been able to lie to them for long. If they had asked enough times, she would have told them, and they would not have been happy. But she knew she was doing what was best for her right now – what she needed to do.

Quickly making her way to the edge of campus, Usagi hailed a taxi and then read the driver the address she had scrawled on a notecard after her latest phone call. Chin in her hands, she watched the lights of the city flash past her window with a small swell of pride. She had done it. She had actually gotten into the University of Tokyo! Everyone had been a mix of astonishment and pride – the astonishment had hurt her a bit, but she couldn't really blame them, her grades had been abysmal for quite a long time – but she had done it.

She remembered visiting the campus with her parents: her mother pointing out pretty places she thought her daughter should visit or study in and her father mercilessly grilling the sweating tour guide about the safety measures on campus. And as she walked around she could really picture herself there: meeting friends for coffee, laying out on the lawn when the weather was nice, visiting a professor with questions about a paper. It was a dream come true.

Then she had gone into her meeting with the admissions counselor – something she had insisted she do on her own – and been told, quite kindly but firmly, that she had been denied financial aid. She remembered sitting there, her stomach feeling suddenly empty and yet too full, her hands shaking, her heart feeling too large for her chest, her throat too tight, her eyes aching with the tears she could feel building even as she blinked them away.

And just like that her dreams had crumbled. She knew her parents couldn't afford to send her for more than maybe one semester and while she could apply for more scholarships, they wouldn't cover everything and her family was already struggling under the weight of their recent loans to cover her grandmother's declining health.

She had nodded numbly and come out of the office to the flash of a camera as her mother took another picture of her "baby," her "college girl." Usagi had quickly smiled and blamed her runny eyes on the bright flash, shoving the bill into her pocket before her parents could notice. How would she tell them? How could she possibly tell them when they were finally so, so proud?

So she didn't. She went home and frantically began looking for scholarships, loans, job offers, anything that could help her get through this without burdening her family more than she had too.

Then, she lied.

When her father asked when tuition was due and how they should pay, Usagi had told him – in a desperate attempt to portray the stubbornness she often possessed – that she wanted to be the one in charge of the money. And then she had argued and wailed and pleaded with him that she could do it, that she wanted to learn how to handle her own finances and that she was growing up until, finally, he agreed. They set up a bank account with all the money they had set aside for college – the money Usagi led them to believe was all she would need for the next four years – and she praised Ami for making her take that graphics design class which now allowed her to create fake letters about scholarships and bills due.

Some of them were real – she had earned a few scholarships: from her previous school for her great improvement, from the club of elderly women who approved of her volunteer work, from a small fund at the University for students coming from her area – yet she knew it wasn't enough.

But she had a solution. A desperate, secret, her-friends-and-family-would-kill-her-if-they-found-out solution that would help her fill in the money that her scholarships, loans, and family money wouldn't.

She found a job.

* * *

Mamoru paced around his living room and wondered, for about the twenty-seventh time, what the _hell_ he was doing.

He had never, _ever_ thought he would stoop this low. Was it low? Maybe that wasn't fair, but it was desperate. Hiring a companion...anyone who knew him would be shocked, flabbergasted, appalled, and, probably, confused! He wasn't so sure how he felt about it himself.

Why was he – the youngest and brightest new resident at the University of Tokyo Hospital, one of the most sought after bachelor's in the area – calling a service that mainly catered to lonely, desperate men?

This was absolutely crazy.

He had to cancel. He paced back towards his phone and got so far as picking up the business card next to it before he set it back down with a sigh. Crazy, yes, but maybe that's because he was feeling crazy.

He had worked his butt off for years – studying, applying to internships, working extra hours – to get to where he was, and now that was all it seems like he knew how to do: work. It wasn't that he didn't like working – hell, it was the only thing that made him feel alive anymore! – but he hadn't had any real physical contact with another human being in...he didn't want to try to figure out how long.

The staff at the hospital was nice enough – some of the nurses maybe a little _too_ nice – but none of them really took the time to get to know him. Not that he let them. He didn't _have_ a social life. If it weren't for Motoki, he probably would have reached this point years ago.

And what exactly was this point? Mamoru groaned as he collapsed onto his leather couch, business card still in hand, and stared at the simple, black letters that were giving him such a headache:

_Luna Nocturne Inc._

A subtle name for a business offering a rather disapproved of service, but which still managed to have a great reputation for dealing plainly, efficiently, and, most importantly, discreetly.

Mamoru had been carrying the card around for weeks, trying to build up the courage to call, but every time he started he had hung up – in fear, in disgust, in guilt – until today.

Mamoru sighed again and put his head in his hands. Why did this have to be so hard? So he hadn't dated in years – hadn't ever _really_ dated. So what? He had been busy! He still was. He had thought about taking one or two of those nurses up on their offers, but that had seemed like a bad idea – mixing business with pleasure. Besides, he didn't want to get any sort of bad reputation at the hospital and he highly doubted the nurses would have been happy to know he was really only interested in one thing.

Mamoru snorted. For many people that _one thing_ would have been sex, but Mamoru had no idea if that was even what he wanted, he just knew he wanted – no _needed_ – something. Companionship? Someone to listen to him? Just the knowledge that, for a moment, he wouldn't be alone?

He shook his head, allowing himself to sink back into the couch. Saying anything like _that_ , definitely would have gotten him a reputation.

Then he sat up with a start. What if someone saw her entering his apartment? He stood up and quickly ran to the phone, dialing like a maniac before coming to his senses halfway through the numbers. What did it matter? The woman he had talked to on the phone promised that their workers didn't draw attention. She would be dressed tastefully and would make her way to his apartment with the upmost care. Of that he had been assured.

Nodding his head, Mamoru set the phone back into its cradle and dropped the card next to it. If he wasn't careful, he was going to have a heart attack before she even arrived.

She... He wondered what _she_ would be like. What kind of a woman would take a job as a companion? He had grown up learning the usual stereotypes – poor, uneducated, dirty – but that didn't seem right. From what information he had gleaned while doing a search on a public computer (dying of fright anytime anyone came within ten feet of him), the worker's at _Luna's_ were anything but. Still, he wondered what she'd look like.

When the woman on the phone had asked him if he had any preferences and, for a second, he had had no idea what they meant. Once he did, he was surprised to find himself giving her an answer: blonde.

Where that came from, he wasn't really sure, but he kind of liked the idea of it now. Perhaps he should have said _long,_ blonde hair. Was he allowed to ask for that?

Running his fingers through his own hair Mamoru groaned. He didn't even know what to expect. Should he offer her some tea? Should they go out? Would she expect him to take control of the situation, or would she come with a specific plan in mind? And what the heck should he be wearing?

Mamoru had contemplated changing about as many times as he had questioned his sanity. Sweatpants, since he was home? Semi-casual, so he at least looked like he'd tried a little? Date-worthy? Finally, he had settled for simply staying in his work clothes. He looked nice – a tie and button down shirt – but not fancy. And then, technically (since they were his work clothes), he wouldn't look like he was trying too hard or anything!

Mamoru nodded and then glanced at the clock. She should be here soon.

He stood there for a moment – between his couch and his coffee table, shifting his weight from foot to foot, nodding his head as he watched the second hand tick steadily on – then he was sprinting toward the phone like a madman.

 _What the hell was I thinking? I can't_ hire _someone like this! What if my boss finds out? What if Motoki finds out? I'll just call and tell them I changed my mind or that something came up_ – his fingers fumbled with his phone and he cursed – _This is the stupidest, most_ ridiculous _thing I could possibly have –_

Someone knocked at his door. With a start Mamoru looked up and swallowed. Setting the phone carefully back down, he made his way to the door and took a deep breath. Apparently, he would have to tell her in person.

Putting what he hoped was a kind smile on his face and commanding his hand to stop shaking, Mamoru reached up and opened the door.

Usagi gave her cab driver a bright smile and a nice tip and then made her way into the tall apartment building he had stopped in front of. Tipping her head up a little, Usagi walked carefully but confidently into the building; she had been taught that if you looked like you know what you're doing, people will naturally assume you do. Breathing a sigh of relief that no one had seemed to question her presence, Usagi got into the elevator and pushed the button for the 18th floor.

 _Whoever this guy is_ , she thought, watching the door close on the posh decoration of the main lobby, _he must be rich._

The she quickly shook her head, mentally chastising herself. She tried not to label her clients as anything before she met them, allowing them to introduce themselves however they wanted when they met her. She had found quickly that the people who asked for a companion didn't always want to be themselves. Sometimes what they wanted – and what she offered – was the possibility of an escape.

Seeing her reflection in the door of the elevator, Usagi checked her appearance again. She was wearing a light pink dress that she could have easily worn to a picnic or to a nice dinner, along with a soft, white sweater to ward off the chill of winter that still lingered in the air. Her makeup was light – highlighting the blush of her cheeks and the outline of her eyes, without adding anything extra. Another thing she had found with her clients was that the people who called _Luna_ 's didn't want an experience, they wanted something real. Even if only for a little while.

Her feet sunk into the red carpet of the hallway as she stepped out of the elevator and she glanced quickly between the card and the doors she passed. _22...22...22!_ Facing the door, Usagi pushed down the nerves that always bubbled up before she met a client. She had gotten better at this over time – pushing away any shame she may have had at the beginning, feeling more confident in herself as she went – but sometimes she still had doubts. Is this really what she wanted?

 _No, but it could be worse,_ she thought, glancing at the name on the card before pushing it into her purse and raising her hand to the door.

 _Mr. Chiba_ , she thought as she listened to her knock echo into the apartment before her. _I only ever knew one Chiba. and that was –_

She heard the click of a lock unlatching and then the door opened.

"Mamoru?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, sooooo what do you think? Please don't hate it! It may seem a bit odd for Usagi, but there's more explanation in the next chapter and I honestly don't think it's completely OOC.  
> Please, please, PLEASE review!


	2. Chapter 2

Usagi stared in shock at the man before her. There could be no doubt about it – sure he was taller, broader, older – but that hair, jet black and tousled, and those eyes, a deep midnight blue. It was him.

For his part, Mamoru looked as shocked as she was sure she did.

There had to be some mistake.

Usagi fumbled with her purse, desperately clawing through its contents until she found the paper again, but there it was: _Chiba: 2, Mita, Minato-ku, Tokyo, Apt. 22._ When she looked back up at him, ready for him to demand how in the world she had gotten his address, because surely this was some sort of cosmic joke, instead she found him looking not only shocked, but also confused, upset, and...was that...scared?

"U-Usagi?" He murmured.

"I'm sorry," Usagi said, unsure how to explain her situation to him without having him laugh in her face or, worse, look at her with disgust. "I just – " she held her note up as if that explained everything, desperately trying to think of something – anything! – that would explain her presence here, now. But to her surprise, he simply stepped aside and gestured for her to come in.

Unsure what to do, and knowing now there was no way to back out, Usagi stepped inside politely. How was she going to explain this to her boss? She was always very careful to write the addresses down correctly – often having whoever called her say it twice and then repeating it back to them, just to make sure – but maybe she got the apartment wrong, or the building number?

Maybe she could just tell Mamoru she had run into Motoki recently and wondered how he was? That wasn't suspicious, right?

"Do your friends know?"

Usagi turned around to find Mamoru leaning against his door, watching her with a deeply unsettling expression – some odd mix between chagrin and anger, but still with that same hint of fear.

"What?"

"I said, do your friends know?"

Usagi furrowed her brows. This was not how she had expected him to react to her sudden, unexplainable appearance. "Do my friends know what?"

Mamoru raised his eyebrows. "That you're," he gestured awkwardly at her body and then quickly crossed his arms as if to hide his hands, "you know."

"...here?" Usagi asked, trying to follow his line of thinking.

"Well here, yes," he said pushing off of his door in frustration and walking towards her, "but, you know, here" he seemed to wait for her to give some sign she understood, but when she couldn't his lips thinned in anger and then he leaned forward to whisper harshly, "working."

Usagi gasped. How did he know? Oh god. Oh _no_! She had feared this moment all year – that somehow, someway, someone would figure out what she did, what she _was_ , and then what would she do? How would she afford to –

"Wait," Usagi said, to both Mamoru and her brain, feeling the blood which had just drained from her face immediately rushing back, "How the _hell_ do you know about that?"

And suddenly, she wasn't the only one blushing. Mamoru gave a slight cough and rubbed his hand against the back of his neck. At her second gasp of understanding, though, he quickly stepped past her into his living room, waving his hand through the air. "That's not the problem here, the issue is – "

"You hired me?!" she all but screeched, finding a small amount of satisfaction in the way that made him whip his head around and glance at the door in fear. "Wait, _you_ hired _me?"_

"I didn't hire _you_." Mamoru retorted, his eyes flashing, "I only specified blonde and – "

He broke off in shock – obviously he had not meant to say that – and for a moment he and Usagi just stared at each other. Then he tore his gaze away in embarrassment and continued toward his couch.

Usagi followed him hesitantly, perching herself on the couch as far away as she could while she tried to process everything she had just realized.

She hadn't gotten the address wrong. Mamoru lived here. Mamoru had hired a companion. She was his companion. _Mamoru_ had hired a _companion_?!

Mamoru cleared his throat and glanced at Usagi's feet. Part of her wanted to laugh at his obvious discomfort, but another part of her really, _really_ felt like joining in his misery. This was _not_ how she had expected her night to go.

"So," he cleared his throat again, "you're a...companion."

Usagi searched his tone for some indication of his reaction – some hint as to what he was thinking, but it revealed nothing. So she decided to answer him the same way.

"Yes."

Mamoru looked up then, his gaze unreadable as he searched her eyes. "Why?"

Whatever Usagi had been expecting, she hadn't expected _that_. Disgust, derision, yes, but genuine interest and perhaps confusion, no.

Usagi shrugged and glanced down at her lap, tracing the small flower designs of her purse. She debated with herself for a few moments about how much she should tell him – what she should tell him – when she decided that, for once, if might feel good to actually talk about it.

"I hadn't planned for this to happen, but I needed a job."

Usagi glanced up to find Mamoru's eyes on her and suddenly everything – every detail she had never shared, ever fear she had hidden away – came pouring out of her. And he listened.

She and Mamoru had never been friends. He had teased her a lot, yes, and she had screamed at him nearly every chance she got, but she had never disliked him and she was sure he had felt the same way. Still, they had never been close. Part of that had been because of the aura he always seemed to have – a sense of shadows and ice, secrets held close and walls built high – that both pushed her away and pulled her in. Somehow, she felt that if anyone could listen to her story without judging her and without telling a soul, it would be him. And he hadn't called her Odango once.

When she finally finished, she looked into his eyes and searched for any sign of a negative emotion, any sign of revulsion or even pity. Instead, all she found was sadness and worry and anger.

"Usagi," he started to say, "I'm really so– "

"Don't," Usagi said, putting her hand up to cut him off. She was surprised at herself. She had told him the entire story and hadn't cried once. And now, she felt oddly free, light even. In fact, looking at Mamoru now, she felt grateful. "What's done is done and it's not really that bad. _Luna_ 's pays more than any, should I say, _legitimate_ job I could find and I really need the money. I'm not exactly proud of what I do, but I'm not ashamed either."

Usagi lifted her chin up. Mamoru needed to know that while her circumstances weren't great, she wasn't weak. She had never wanted him to think that she was weak. "And you know what, I help people. The clients I have – they _need_ me. That's why they call."

"I'm not a prostitute," She stated primly, staring him directly in the eyes, daring him to argue. "I'm a companion – in _Luna_ 's case that does not necessarily include sexual favors. So I don't do anything I don't want to and I'm always treated fairly. That's more than some people can say."

Leaving her chin in the air Usagi watched him, watched him as he watched her and waited. Finally, he sat up a bit and nodded. "I can't say I like the idea of you being a companion," this time it was his turn to hold his hand up for silence, "But it's not really my place to say anything about it. You're doing what you have to and I...understand."

Usagi gave Mamoru a small smile of gratitude, oddly relieved that he hadn't given her a lecture or anything. Maybe this night wouldn't be so bad after all.

"Well, I'm really sorry I wasted your time tonight." Mamoru said, standing up with a sigh. Usagi started in surprise. _Sorry?_ What did he mean sorry? Then her stomach dropped and she found herself examining the fibers of his carpet in embarrassment. _Of course, how could I be so stupid. He doesn't want me. He wanted...what did he want?_

"What?"

Usagi glanced up, realized she had said that last part aloud. "What did you want?"

Mamoru's brow furrowed in confusion. "Usagi, I don't – "

Usagi stood up quickly then, steeling her nerves and stared Mamoru straight in the face. He may have said he understood, but he was _not_ about to send her away after all that. "You called for a companion, yes?"

Mamoru's mouth moved for a moment before he could stutter out, "Well, yes?"

"Well, then, here I am!"

Mamoru shook his head and took a step back, looking around as if for some form of escape. "But Usagi," he said in consternation, "I can't make you – I mean, it wouldn't be fair to – "

"But it would be fair for someone else?" She placed her hands on her hips, doing her best impersonation of the stare Rei gave her when calling her a hypocrite.

Mamoru looked lost for a moment and then stepped forward, placing his hands her shoulders and giving them a slight squeeze. "Usagi-chan, no."

She felt her shoulders drop.

"I'll still pay you." He murmured, "You don't have to worry about that."

 _Pay me?_ Usagi looked up, then, a bit angry. She didn't want to tell people what she did to get paid, yes, but that didn't mean she wanted to be paid for doing absolutely nothing. And who was this guy – this _Baka_ – to call for a girl and then change his mind as soon he realized it was her?

"Am I too young?"

Usagi could tell she had surprised him with that one. His hands fell away from her arms and his mouth opened so that he looked like a fish.

She advanced on him slowly, watching with a small bit of amusement as he backed away, even as she bit out in irritation, "Am I not pretty enough?"

"What? Usagi, no that's not – that's not why!"

"You think I'm ugly don't you!"

Oh, he was uncomfortable now. In fact, he looked about desperate to get away. "No! I-I..."

"That's it isn't it!" She allowed her voice to raise slightly, watching as his eyebrows climbed further and further into his hairline. "You couldn't possibly, ever find me the slightest bit attractive because I'm young and I'm klutzy and I'm a crybaby and I'm stupid and you think – "

"You're beautiful!"

Usagi had known Mamoru was building towards something as she backed him into the wall, but she hadn't expected that.

"What?"

Mamoru sighed and passed his hand over his face. "I said, you're beautiful."

Usagi watched him in confusion. Had he just said...what?

Mamoru was silent as she tried to process his compliment – that's what it was, right? – and then saw a small smile grow on his face.

"You really thought I never noticed?"

"Huh?" Okay, now Usagi was feeling very unintelligent and not at all in control. That was one thing she always felt with her clients – in control. Of course, that was one thing she had never felt around Chiba Mamoru.

Mamoru chuckled and ran his fingers through his hair. It really was adorable when he did that.

"I've always thought you were pretty, Usagi-chan. I know I teased you a lot, but I always thought you knew I didn't mean any of it."

Usagi shrugged. "I knew you weren't serious, but I don't understand why you want me to leave."

Mamoru sighed, crossing his arms across his chest and then uncrossing them and then crossing them again. "It just doesn't feel...right."

Usagi tilted her head and looked at him, _really_ looked at him. If she was here – if he had called for someone – then it was because he _needed_ someone. And for some reason that she couldn't quite understand, she wanted that person to be her.

"You called for a companion."

Mamoru looked at her and nodded, "Yes, but – "

"Buuuut, _you_ called for a companion." Usagi said, firmly.

Mamoru blinked and she watched as his cheeks became slightly tinted pink. "Well, yes..."

"Okay, then," Usagi said, squaring her shoulders. "I'm staying."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Usagi will talk more about what her job means in the next chapter.
> 
> Again, comments and kudos always appreciated <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little Mamoru POV, because who doesn't like wallowing in his angsty thoughts?

It felt like a stalemate. Usagi stood in front of him, hands on her hips, chin raised, her eyes just _daring_ him to make her leave and he wanted to laugh. At her expression, at the irony that _she_ was the blonde they had sent, at the entire goddamn situation. This night was turning out nothing like he had expected.

First, he had refused to believe it. There had to be another reason Usagi – beautiful, unattainable, odangoed Usagi – had shown up at his door. There was no possible way that she – but then she had shown him his address and he knew. He just knew.

And then he felt.

First he was shocked – How did this happen? How could this be? – then he was terrified – What would she think? How would she react? – then he was angry – What was she doing? How could _she_ be doing _this_? – but, most of all, he was scared – Why her? What happened to her? Was she okay?

And so he had asked about her friends, not seeing how Usagi – the girl who couldn't even lie about a bad test grade – could have kept this from her friends. Why hadn't they stopped her? Or her family. She hadn't seemed without means before. Had something happened to them? He could tell from her fear that they didn't know anything. Maybe no one knew anything?

But what was she _doing_? What had happened to Usagi to make her do this?

He had known before he called that he wasn't going to judge the woman who came to him – after all, _he_ was the one hiring _her_ and it was simply a job – but he hadn't expected to see someone he knew. Least of all, Usagi – the girl who always seemed so full of sunshine, who had always acted so childish, so free.

And so he asked her the one question that burned more than all the others: why? He was actually rather surprised that she told him. And then he was scared, worried, and angry all over again. How could this happen to Usagi – the girl who lived like she had no care in the world? How did she do it? How did she bear this burden alone? How could her family not have realized? Or her friends?

And when she finished her story, when she first looked up at him, so vulnerable, so scared, it was all he could do not to gather her up in his arms and never let her go. He had always felt oddly protective of Usagi, worried that someday, something would happen to put out her light and then what would happen to the world? What would happen to him?

He hadn't seen her in years, but opening his door was all it had taken for all those old feelings – those confusing, distracting, oddly warming feelings – to come rushing back. This was the girl who had, yes, failed almost every test that came her way, tripped over absolutely nothing constantly, and yelled at him for simply breathing. But this was also the girl who would cry over someone else's pain, who could light up a room with a single smile, and who had made a very depressed teenage boy feel a lot less lonely.

They had never been friends, no, but he had always felt that they were bonded in some way that only they could understand. Bonded in some beautifully, terrifying way.

And so to hear her declaring that she was going to _stay_ was both the worst and the best thing Mamoru had ever heard in his life.

Did he want her to stay? Of course! But could he let her stay? Could he take advantage of her heart, her kindness, her innocence like that? He had called to ask for a faceless stranger and he had gotten the girl who had haunted his dreams and his memories for _years_. It was like the universe hated him. Or loved him.

Mamoru was starting to get a headache.

And then he looked at her and realized that what he thought didn't matter. _She_ was offering to stay. If he said no, then she would leave, but that wouldn't protect her. That wouldn't stop her from going to whoever her next client was. That wouldn't change her situation.

If he was right, and she had never told anyone about her job before, then maybe, just maybe, she needed him right now as much as he needed her. That didn't seem particularly likely, but for the moment Mamoru decided to believe it. It felt nice, being needed. Being needed by _her._

"Okay," he said finally. He almost laughed when her entire body deflated and relief flashed across her face before she masked it to stare at him shrewdly.

"Really?"

Mamoru smiled and held up his hands as if in a peace offering. "Really."

Usagi leaned back in satisfaction and beamed at him. Mamoru felt his heart stutter in his chest. How did she always manage to do that?

Then, he realized what he had just agreed to and he felt his entire body flush with embarrassment again. "So, um," Mamoru walked awkwardly past Usagi, and sat down on the couch, "What now?"

He was happy to see Usagi's skin also darken in a slight blush as she joined him on the couch. "Well, my boss didn't give me much instruction. Did you know what you want?"

Mamoru looked at her. "Want?"

He must have looked horrified because Usagi giggled a bit. "Yeah, I mean like I said, I don't really, ahem, _fully_ service my clients, or do much of anything like _that_...um...but I wasn't sure what you were looking for."

"Oh. _Oh_." Mamoru coughed delicately, "Actually, I, uh, wasn't really sure either. I've never – I mean I just figured I'd ask once she, ah, you got here."

"Oh, well I'm here." Usagi said, waving her hands like a performer.

They both chuckled awkwardly.

"Okay, so, uh, what do you normally do?"

"Well," Usagi said, setting her purse down and peeling off her sweater. Mamoru thought he was going to have a coronary until he realized she had stopped at the sweater and was now folding it neatly on top of her bag. "Normally, I talk to the client a bit and we get to know each other. Sometimes the clients tell me all about themselves and sometimes they tell me almost nothing. And I'm sure, sometimes, they tell me whatever they want to believe about themselves, true or not."

Usagi gave a small smile here and then leaned back into the couch. Mamoru couldn't help but notice just how small she looked sitting there – a bright light against its dark leather. "Then I kind of feel out what they want. Sometimes they tell me upfront, but often times they're very shy."

Mamoru was surprised by how softly and kindly Usagi was speaking. As if she really cared about the people she serviced. Though, knowing Usagi, he wouldn't find it that surprising if she did.

"I've gone on dates before – walks in the park, a dinner for work, the movies, whatever they want – but honestly, usually my clients just want someone to talk to. Someone to make them feel like they're not alone."

Usagi shrugged, "So I guess the most common service I offer is being my client's _someone_."

"Their...someone?" Mamoru wasn't sure if he had followed that last part.

Usagi nodded, "Their girlfriend, their wife, their whatever. I act like we've just met and yet like we've known each other for years. I try and plop myself right into their life like it's completely normal – like I _belong_ there – and then I keep them company."

Mamoru nodded slowly. In all actuality, that was exactly what he wanted. He didn't want to date someone, to go through the whole mess of learning about them – their likes and dislikes, their habits, their dreams – he just wanted to _know_ and to _be known_. He wanted to come home to someone who already loved and accepted him. Something he had grown up sorely lacking.

Lost in his thoughts, Mamoru glanced up quickly when he heard a slight cough.

"Though, uh, Mamoru," Usagi looked a bit uncomfortable, twisting her fingers around in her lap and looking up at him through her lashes in that adorable way she had, "if you don't mind me asking, why _did_ you call? It's just, you don't really strike me as the kind of guy – I mean you're not like one of my normal clients..."

Mamoru looked at her for a second and then shrugged.

"I just – " Usagi started, and then stopped as if struggling with herself. Then she moved closer to him and placed her hand on his knee. It was so small, her hand, and yet so warm – already he could feel its heat seeping into the fabric of his pants and spreading up and down his leg. "Why don't you just go on a date? I mean, it's just that usually I get men who...well who _can't_ get a date. Who might have trouble in social situations or are really shy or just generally...awkward. They aren't bad people, and I try to talk their confidence up as much as I can, but I wouldn't think you'd, you know, need that."

Mamoru looked into her eyes – her beautiful, sparkling blue eyes – and saw her searching his own with curiosity and a little bit of worry. Part of him didn't want to answer, wanted to push her away and hide from that look for the rest of his life, but most of him was tired of hiding, of pretending.

Mamoru shrugged again and looked away, "I get so busy with rotations at the hospital and I never really want to take the time – I mean I just don't have the time to, you know, really _meet_ someone. But I miss...It's just..." he found his fingers absentmindedly tracing the splay of her hand on his knee, "...I've never really had someone."

He could feel her, watching him. He wondered what she saw.

After a few moments of silence – he couldn't seem to stop touching her fingers – she moved her hand away. For a brief moment, he thought she was going to leave, but then her fingers were back, smoothing along his jaw and turning his face towards her own.

When he met her eyes, he didn't see pity or laughter, like he had feared. Instead, she was simply smiling. A light, small quirk of her lips as she traced the skin around his chin.

"Did you have a long day?"

Mamoru looked at her, confused, already unconsciously leaning into the soft caress of her fingers on his skin.

She didn't explain, though. Instead, she just laughed lightly. "I see you left your tie on again."

Before he could say anything, her fingers were at his throat, deftly undoing the cloth he had left so tightly synched from before.

He wanted to tell her to stop, to ask her what she was doing, but he didn't. Instead he closed his eyes and simply _felt_ , as the material around his throat slowly loosened, as her finger occasionally brushed sweet fire against his neck.

Then the tie was off and he watched as she laid it across the back of the couch. Funny, how she could make an action so simple feel so, so good. Freeing and…normal.

"Do you want to tell me about work?" she asked, her fingers then moving to delicately unbutton the top of his shirt.

"Usagi, I don't – "

"You don't have to, of course," she continued over him, pulling down on his shoulders a bit, as if to move him, "I know sometimes you'd rather just relax."

He looked at her for a moment and then, in an instant, he understood. She was being his _someone_ – as she had so aptly termed it. She was acting as if they were together – had been together – for a while now. At first, he wanted to push her away. To tell her he couldn't do this – not with her – not if it wasn't real, but then he realized he didn't care. For a little while, just a little while, he wanted _so badly_ to pretend it was.

And so when she pushed on his shoulders again, he let her guide him down until his head was in her lap, his legs stretched out over the rest of the couch, as she brushed small fingers through his hair.

As she pet him, he allowed his body to relax into the couch – melting under the soft butterfly touches of her hands along his brows, his ears, his temples – and he told her about his day. About the young man who had finally gotten out of his wheelchair and started to walk, about the small girl who he had found crying next to her mother's bed because she still hadn't woken up, about the elderly man who had proposed to his nurse because he liked her smile, about the woman who had decided she did not want to undergo surgery even when he told her it was her only chance. Every monumental moment and tiny detail.

And she listened. Sometimes she laughed, sometimes she moaned, and sometimes she would simply increase the pressure of her fingers for a moment, as if to say, _I'm here. I'm here_.

And Mamoru soaked it all in – the feeling of her fingers in his hair, the warmth of her legs under his head, the sound of her voice in his ears – knowing that for now, for tonight, he was not alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why, but writing this scene was so cathartic for me. I think that this is what Mamoru always wanted, but always lacked, and what he was ultimately so scared to pursue because he hadn't ever encountered it before. Term it what you want: love, acceptance, family, a someone. No matter what, that is what Usagi is for him. And I think that is the most beautiful thing in the world.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this chapter definitely earns this fic the E rating, so please be aware that what follows contains an EXPLICIT sex scene; read at your own discretion.

After he finished telling her about his day – even though he had been the one talking – he almost felt like he was falling asleep.

So imagine his surprise when she gently lifted his head off her lap and moved away. He couldn't help the whimper that left his lips, but in a moment she was kneeling next to him on the floor, petting his forehead again.

"Poor Mamoru." She crooned, "All that work – you must be exhausted."

Feeling rather like a child whose woes were finally being understood, he nodded and watched as she shuffled down the couch towards his feet.

"And I bet your feet are killing you from all that walking, too."

"Usagi," he said, sitting up, "you don't have to – "

But then her fingers were on his feet, digging into every tender area, and he fell back into the couch cushions with a moan.

"Shhh, Mamo-chan," she said, and he could tell she was fighting back giggles. "Just relax."

"Mamo-chan?" he mumbled, his mind rather hazy as he approached nirvana. He should have hired her much, _much_ sooner.

Usagi winked at him and he smiled. He rather liked that name.

"My mom always told me I have magical fingers," she commented.

Mamoru moaned again, hoping she understood that this was his way of agreeing. He wasn't quite sure if he could talk properly right now.

A little while later though – far too soon in Mamoru's opinion – Usagi stopped and he heard more than saw her move into the kitchen to wash her hands. Mamoru had never realized just how much he had needed a foot massage until now.

A slight shuffle near his ear indicated Usagi was back, and he was trying to decide whether he should try to convince her to let him spoon her on the couch when suddenly he felt her weight moving up his legs.

Opening his eyes, he watched, frozen, as Usagi climbed up his body and perched herself at the bottom of his torso. He almost pinched himself, wondering if perhaps he actually _had_ fallen asleep. Looking up at her, he felt his mouth go dry. He wanted to say so many things – I'm sorry. You're beautiful. Don't leave. Please. – but before he could do anything her fingers were at the buttons of his shirt.

He let his eyes close again with a groan as first her fingers and then her lips moved down the now exposed expanse of his chest – tickling, teasing, and tasting – her hair brushing his lips and his neck, enveloping him in the sweet smell of flowers.

Reaching a hand up, he let it run through the silky strands of one of her pigtails – marveling in how smooth, how soft, how utterly perfect it was. Just like he had always thought it must be.

Then she was sitting up and her hands were in her own hair, quickly undoing her odangos until every strand fell around them like a curtain of gold.

Mamoru tried to swallow, but his throat felt too thick with an emotion he could not name.

And maybe she could see it in his eyes: the fear, the uncertainty, the confusion, because her hands were quickly on his face, her lips following her fingers to kiss along his hairline towards his ear, across his nose around his mouth, murmuring the whole time "Shh, I'm here. Mamo-chan. I'm here."

And when he could take it no more, when her smell and touch and breath were just too much to handle, he reached his hands up, fingers threading into her hair, and put his lips to hers.

The logical part of his brain knew he should pull away, should question this, should realize this wasn't real and stop it before it went too far – before he lost himself completely – but he couldn't. He didn't want to. Because he _was_ lost. Had been lost for far too long.

But she had found him – had _always_ found him. And this time, he wasn't letting go.

* * *

Usagi let out a soft moan as Mamoru gently parted her lips with his tongue, allowing her body to settle more fully onto his, her soft curves melding against the hard planes of his chest.

He felt so good – so strong and firm beneath her – like the promise of protection or a stability she hadn't even realized she craved.

But what's more, everywhere he touched her, she burned – her entire front where it touched his now bare torso; her lips, cheeks, and neck as his tongue wandered across her skin; her arms, her sides, and her back as his hands swept across her body.

She had never done this with a client. Yes, she had kissed them, made out, she had even gone further on a couple occasions, but never like _this_. This felt...well...real.

She knew she should stop. She should slow down, sit up, and then they could talk or…something. She needed to get everything back under control, because right now, she was breaking the biggest rule _Luna_ 's had – "Don't get emotionally involved."

She had never had trouble with it before. Sure she _cared_ about her clients. She actually came to really like a lot of them – she had always made friends easily – and she had liked knowing that she had helped each of them feel a little less lonely, however it was she decided to do that. But this, _this_ was dangerous. Because this wasn't just a client, this was Mamoru.

Really, she couldn't find it in herself to be surprised – she and Mamoru had always toed the line of what was right or acceptable or appropriate – but she hadn't ever felt so in danger of losing herself before. Because that's exactly what she was doing.

With every kiss, sigh, touch, moan, she was losing herself to him. And it felt so good.

Seeing him on the couch when she came back in, all the hard planes of his face softened until he looked almost like a young boy who had just fallen asleep, she had felt her heart stumble in her chest. Mamoru had always been an enigma to her – an unsolvable puzzle of warmth and ice, passion and distance, light and dark – and suddenly her desire to help him, to make him feel wanted and safe, had become simply _desire_.

Desire for him, fully and completely, as she could never have him before.

But it wasn't like that for him. He had called for a companion. He had not expected her, not asked for her. He had probably wanted a stranger – someone he could be with guilt-free, no strings attached. And so that's what she would give him, what she _had_ to give him.

Because when she had asked him why he wanted a companion, she had looked at him, _really_ looked at him, and realized just how lonely he really was. The dark, shadowed teenager who had haunted her days and nights for years, had become a dark and shadowed man. She had no doubt he loved his work – she could hear that in his voice when he told her about it – but work did not keep you company once you left. Work did not listen to you, sit with you, hold you, or love you. And that was what Mamoru needed.

And so for tonight, she would do that for him. Because he needed it, because he wanted it, and because he had paid for it.

Usagi pressed herself closer to him, winding her fingers into his hair until she was sure he must be in pain, feeling as he clutched her back, held her tighter like she wanted, but inside her heart ached. Because she wanted this to be real – not a job for her, or a need to be satisfied for him. _Real._ But she would have tonight. Yes, at least she would have tonight.

And as if he could sense her thoughts, her ache, Mamoru pulled his head back, placing his hands on either side of her face to look into her eyes and she saw the same desperation, the same need in his gaze as she felt burning in her own.

"Usako," he murmured and she closed her eyes with a cry. And then his hands were everywhere, running through her hair, tugging at her dress, pulling on her thighs – and he was sighing her name, over and over and over – "Usako, Usako, Usako."

"Mamo-chan," she murmured, surrendering to her own desire and pushing her fears aside for later. "Mamo-chan."

In moments, her dress was on the floor, quickly followed by his shirt, and then he was sitting up, holding her thighs as she leaned back, lips hot against her neck and then her breasts, tongue circling her nipples as she arched and cried.

Picking her up, holding her flush against him, he walked to his bedroom, her legs snug around his hips, her fingers in his hair as she nuzzled his ear.

She felt gravity take her as he leaned over his bed, releasing her into the softs sheets that felt cool against her flushed skin. Her hands pulled on his shoulders and he followed her down.

"God, you're so beautiful," he murmured, tracing images across her stomach as she stretched across his bed, urging him closer with soft mewls and sighs.

When he came back to her lips, she flipped them over, moving her hands across his chest and down around his navel, slowly working her way to his belt. With the slight lift of his hips she pulled off his pants and then his boxers, feeling the heat of his skin on her hands as she skimmed them softly down his thighs.

She smiled as he gasped and then moaned, her fingers brushing slowly and slowly closer to his cock.

"Usako," he groaned – perhaps he meant it to sound like a reprimand, but it came out much more like a plea, and as she covered his mouth with hers again, she carefully wrapped her fingers around him, swallowing his moan even as it vibrated through her chest.

Then she kissed her way down his torso, letting his hands carefully brush away her hair until she perched herself over him, lips almost touching the pre-cum on his tip.

She waited until he pried his eyes open and looked down at her, listening with satisfaction to his heavy breathing, watching his eyes darken as she licked her lips.

And then slowly, ever so slowly, she took him into her mouth.

He was warm and large and very, very bitter as she slid her lips down his length, her tongue playing around him even as her hands rubbed around the base.

His head fell back with a growl and she laughed as his knuckles turned white around fistfuls of bedsheet. She hadn't gotten very far, however, when his hand wrapped itself within her hair instead and he gently pulled her back up to his lips.

"Mamoru?" she questioned. Had she done something wrong?

He kissed her once and then breathed harshly against her neck, "I haven't been with anyone in a _very_ long time, Usa. You've got to go a little easy on me."

She wanted to laugh – so she had done something _right_ – but didn't want to offend him, so she settled for pulling on _his_ hair in retribution and pressing her lips back to his, brushing her tongue against his own as they had before.

Soon enough, his hands were back on her body, pressing her against and then pulling her away from the hard length of his cock, reaching lower and lower until he brushed against the soft material of her underwear.

She gave a small gasp and pushed herself closer to his hands. It seemed that that was all the invitation he needed, because in an instant he had yanked the material down and pushed his fingers against her – massaging her clit deftly and without mercy, building her up so quickly she hadn't even realized she was there until she began to fall, mouth gasping, nails biting deep into his shoulders as she came.

As she recovered, she felt him smirk against her neck. "Looks like I'm not the only one who was close," He murmured, his fingers coming away from her slick and slippery.

Oh, so that's how it was going to be! With a smirk of her own she rid herself of her underwear completely and swung her leg over him before he could even protest, straddling his upper thighs and pressing her wet core against the base of his cock.

With a hiss, he clenched his teeth, gripping her thighs so tightly she thought she might bruise. But even that couldn't stop her from rocking her hips back and forth, spreading her folds around him and sliding along his length.

Usagi watched the strain on his face with satisfaction. "You close now, Mamo-chan?" she cooed.

And before she could even blink, his hands moved up and he flipped her unto her back, his arms on either side of her head, bracing his body above her even as he held himself poised at her entrance, her glistening thighs wrapped around his waist.

"Yes, Usako. I am very, _very_ close." He breathed and she fought back a shiver.

“Wait, wait,” she muttered, hands on his shoulders. “I brought – in my purse – ”

“No, I have some – ” He fumbled at the drawer of his bedside table, quickly coming up with a unopened box of condoms.

She fought back a giggle as he growled at the packaging before finally securing one and tearing it open, and then all thoughts flew from her brain as he slid inside her. They cried out together at the contact, the friction as he moved against her and she rose to meet him. And while she could tell he was trying to hold back, to wait, Usagi could soon feel Mamoru straining not to cum.

"It's okay, Mamoru," she whispered into his ear, pulling his body even closer to her, embracing him with every part of her body, "You can let go."

"U-usagi," he groaned and with a few more sharp jerks he did, releasing inside her with a sigh.

Usagi smiled as he fell across her, breathing ragged in her ear as he collected himself.

"That was wonderful," she murmured, running her fingers through his hair in satisfaction.

"Mmmm," he replied into her neck.

She giggled, and when he rose up to look at her she couldn't stop the swell of pride at how utterly ruffled and yet completely satiated he appeared.

"Usako," he purred, rubbing his nose across her own and then over her face, stopping every so often to lay a light kiss along her skin.

She giggled again and then sighed in contentment as Mamoru rolled over to dispose of his condom and then pulled her into his arms. Snuggling further into his embrace, she laid her head on his chest and closed her eyes, reveling in the way his arms tightened around her in response.

Part of her brain – the part that spoke to her in the voice of her mother or her friends – told her not to stay, warned her about how she would feel tomorrow when she woke up to the realization that this was just a job, that she was only his for a night, but she pushed those thoughts away quickly. She would deal with her feelings later – once she was safely out of his door, once she was far, far away – but for tonight she was his and he was hers. Tonight she would be _here_.

"Goodnight, Mamoru." She whispered softly, carefully preserving in her mind the way she felt in his arms – trying to imagine that this night would last forever – and then she fell asleep to the sound of his heartbeat under her ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God I love writing parallels... hopefully I didn't overdo it!
> 
> For those who may still be confused, basically the women at Luna's choose what they do with their clients and are matched accordingly. So Usagi goes as far as she wants because she is matched with clients who aren't expecting or paying for sexual favors. If you're still confused, there are upcoming chapters that I think will help with that, so bear with me.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a fair warning of what you'll be in for if you pick up this story - after writing the first 4 chapters, it took me another 2 years to write this one XD Sorry, grad school kills me!

Mamoru came awake slowly. The first thing he realized was that he had forgotten to shut his curtains last night. At least he had closed the blinds, but the room was still far brighter than he was used to. Secondly, for all that the sun was probably waking him earlier than he wanted on one of his rare days off, he felt extremely well-rested. His muscles ached slightly, like they did after a good workout, and he felt languid, oddly satisfied. Except for his left arm, which was still asleep, numb under the weight of…

Mamoru's eyes opened in shock and he went stiff before carefully – so, so carefully – glancing down at the pile of blonde hair perched on his chest.

It hadn't been a dream.

Mamoru's heart rate sped up exponentially as he breathed out slowly through his lips, not even trying to stop the silly grin that slipped onto his face.

It hadn't been a dream!

He swallowed down the chuckle that wanted to rise from his chest, the impulse to wrap his arms around Usagi – beautiful, sweet, perfect Usagi – and squeeze her awake, and instead let out another shaky breath. If he had tried to move right then he was almost positive he would be shaking, his nerve-endings alive with an energy he couldn't place and certainly couldn't push down.

She was here. She had stayed. And they had, well…Mamoru's smile grew impossibly wider.

Last night with Usagi had been everything he had never let himself imagine. And she was still here, pressed into his shoulder, all creamy skin and flowing blonde hair, like an angel.

Usagi shifted in sleep and let out a soft snore, her mouth opening slightly to release a thin dribble of drool onto his skin.

God, she was beautiful.

Biting his lip, Mamoru shifted his weight as gently as he could to face her better. He stilled quickly as her nose scrunched, but then she burrowed her face into his neck and groaned softly, "Ten more minutes Mamo-chan."

He felt some of the unnamed tension building in his body release at her muffled words and he thought that if his smile grew anymore, his face might break.

Chuckling, he threaded the fingers of his working, right hand into her hair, softly rubbing her scalp. He was rewarded by a small humming noise and then a small kiss against his neck.

"Usako?" he murmured, after a few moments, almost afraid to break the stillness of their moment together.

"Yes, Mamo-chan?"

"Are you hungry?"

In an instant, Usagi's face was next to his, her eyes blinking wide and clear between strands of her hair. "Yes!"

Mamoru laughed again – how long had it been since he'd really done that? – and watched with wonder as his own fingers brushed her hair behind her ears. "Of course you are. Why did I even bother asking?"

Before the pout could fully form on her face, Mamoru leaned forward to kiss her forehead. "I'll make breakfast."

* * *

After collecting her clothes and directing Usagi to his bathroom, Mamoru began removing ingredients from his fridge. He breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing that Motoki must have dropped by recently to restock his fridge. When his friend had stopped by once to visit, and found only ramen in his cabinets and a block of molding cheese in his fridge, he'd begun regularly shopping for both of them. At first, Motoki had refused payment, but when Mamoru had threatened to let all the food rot if he couldn't pay for it himself, they'd settled on a system that made them both happy: Motoki got the benefit of knowing his friend wasn't starving himself, and Mamoru didn't have to try to find the time to buy fresh produce.

Pulling out the fixings for omelets, Mamoru quickly set to work chopping onions, peppers, and mushrooms for filling.

He had begun grating cheese by the time Usagi emerged, dressed in her dress and sweater from yesterday, her odangos back in place and a sunny smile on her face. "I didn't know you could cook!"

Mamoru grinned at her as she carefully perched herself on the counter next to him. "I've been cooking for myself for a long time. I was awful at first – burned everything – but I'm not bad now. I don't have as much time as I'd like to cook anymore, so sometimes I make large meals on the weekend so I have stuff to eat when I come home from the hospital."

Usagi nodded, "My mom tried to teach me to cook when I was home and Makoto has tried more than once, but" Usagi looked down a little shyly, "I'm afraid I still haven't gotten past the burning everything part."

Mamoru shook his head fondly as she continued, "I mainly eat dorm food now," she had a nose scrunch for that fact, "unless Makoto brings me stuff to eat. She decided to stay in her apartment and commutes to campus instead. She always wants to invite me over for dinner, my mother too, but with all the homework I have I don't have a lot of time on the weeknights and most weekends I, uh…" Mamoru watched as Usagi fidgeted uncomfortably, before finally shrugging in an overly indifferent manner, "Well, you know."

Mamoru did know, now, and he could tell how much it bothered her that she was hiding it from everyone else. Mamoru's heart ached a bit as he considered how opposite all of this was from Usagi's nature. She wasn't someone who hid, well, anything. She was open and trusting and kind. She gave all of herself all the time to everything and everyone she came into contact with. Hiding this secret must be exhausting and, for someone so close to her friends and family as she was, heartbreaking. But she had also demonstrated last night that she didn't want his pity. That, at least, was something he could empathize with.

"I'm sure they understand that you're really busy right now," Mamoru intoned casually, as he set his pan on the stovetop, "what with school and all."

Usagi smiled at him gratefully, her shoulders relaxing from their unconsciously defensive position. "Yeah, they do."

As he cooked breakfast, Usagi chatted away at him good-naturedly about her classes, schoolwork, professors, and friends. Mamoru found himself laughing almost constantly at her stories and couldn't stop himself from teasing her a bit now and then for some of the situations she'd gotten herself into. She mainly pouted adorably before laughing along with him, though she did pretend to stab him with a fork once as she helped set the table.

When they sat down to eat at his table, side-by-side, he couldn't help but think that being with her, like this, felt so…natural. Mamoru felt open in a way he never had before. Safe somehow. Whole.

Usagi continued to chatter at him in-between bites, until suddenly she froze comically with her fork halfway towards her mouth. "Mamoru, what time is it?"

A bit confused, Mamoru leaned forward to catch sight of the clock on the wall in the living room. "It's 10:15."

Usagi eyes widened dramatically, "Shit, I have to go! I'm meeting the girls at 11 to study and Rei will kill me if I'm late again!"

Usagi begin shoveling the food into her mouth at an even faster rate. If he hadn't already seen her eating habits first hand, Mamoru would have worried she was going to choke. Instead, he felt the beginnings of panic set in.

He hadn't been prepared for this. He thought they'd have time to talk, to discuss exactly what had happened last night and what it meant. For her, for them.

While he waited for her to come out of the bathroom he had briefly worried that it hadn't meant anything, not like he wanted, but he had quickly pushed that aside. She said she didn't sleep with her clients. That meant that what had happened had been real or had become real. Right? But how exactly did one ask someone they had technically hired from an agency on a date?

Mamoru felt his mouth opening and closing a bit like a fish as Usagi finished her meal and pushed herself away from the table, tripping over the edge of his rug as she raced to the door.

Scooping her purse up from the couch, Mamoru tried to calm his racing thoughts as he watched her bend down to put on her shoes.

"Can," Mamoru started, stopping to clear his voice and try again, "Can I see you again? Soon?"

Usagi looked up at him with wide eyes and, thinking he saw the beginning of a smile on her lips, he barreled ahead.

"I'll send the money in, of course, I just…umm…" Mamoru stuttered as Usagi looked down, trying to think of how exactly to put into the words everything he'd felt last night and this morning, how desperately he wanted – no needed – to see her again.

Before he could, however, Usagi looked back up and Mamoru's tongue forgot how to work. "I can't."

Mamoru's heart skipped a beat. "W-what?"

Usagi looked distinctly uncomfortable now, gaze trained below his eyes, shoulders hunched a bit as if she was cold. Her voices sounded different too…strained. "Luna's doesn't allow people to request the same companion twice because they aren't supposed to get, umm, attached?"

Mamoru felt his stomach drop and had to force his head not to shake, his hands not to clutch at her sweater, not to shake her until he understood. Because he didn't want to understand what was becoming all too clear: that this had just been a job for her. Different from her others, perhaps, but a job all the same.

He had hired her and she had done her job. She had been his someone and now she wasn't. She wasn't.

"Oh, right." Mamoru swallowed thickly, "Okay."

He knew she took the purse from his hands, felt the leather strap leave him and the soft brush of her skin against his fingers. He vaguely heard her thank him for breakfast, but he couldn't say for the life of him if he replied.

The door opened, the door shut, and he was alone.

Again.

For perhaps 4 waking hours in his entire life, Chiba Mamoru had felt happy, truly blissfully happy. Now, faced with his empty apartment, two dirty plates on his table, and sheets that he knew would smell like her, he wished he never had.

* * *

Usagi stared at the thin line of her own lips reflected in the elevator door as she willed herself not to cry. She'd gotten much better at holding back her tears in the past year, but somehow this time felt worse than the others. It was as if all the shame and fear and humiliation and disappointment she'd learned to push down in the past few months was springing back up, ten times as strong.

She had told herself it was just a job, even as she selfishly took what she wanted from him, but there had been moments, so many moments, when it hadn't felt like she was just convincing herself it was real. Moments when she was _sure_ he wanted her just as badly, just as truly, as she wanted him.

And for one brief shining moment she had been sure he was about to ask her – her, Tsukino Usagi – out on an actual date! But then he had mentioned payment, a subtle reminder that while he may have accepted her help, her love, for a night, she had been there as his companion. She had been there because she was blonde and the agency had matched them together and _she_ had chosen to stay.

Was it worth it? Part of her wanted to say yes, and in some ways maybe it was. She was certain she would remember that night for the rest of her life – the look in his eyes, the touch of his hands on her skin, the smell of him was burned into her brain – but suddenly that seemed like both a blessing and sheer torture. And she had no one to blame but herself.

 _Stupid, stupid Usagi!_ she chided herself.

So he wanted to see her again. So what? He had clearly had a good time – _that_ _at least was obvious_ , she thought to herself wryly. But he didn't want something real with her. He had made it clear the night before he didn't have time for dating anyone, or he wouldn't have needed to call for her in the first place. He wanted the arrangement they had and was willing to pay for it again, and technically she could do it. But in actuality, she knew that she couldn't.

To see him like that, be with him like _that_ , and not actually have him? She had managed to keep herself mostly intact this past year, even with all the added stress and anxiety, but that? That would tear her apart.

So she had lied to him. _Luna_ 's most certainly allowed clients to request a companion again and she had plenty of repeat clients – in fact, she would be meeting one tomorrow for their regularly scheduled lunch. No, the rule against attachment wasn't on the client's end, it was on the companion's.

As a companion, Usagi could choose what she did or did not do with her clients. As someone who did well with those who felt uncomfortable or shy, she was often placed with new clients or those who didn't know what they wanted, and she'd received plenty of good feedback as someone who listens well and cares deeply. She never spent the night with anyone, though, and sometimes chose not to see any clients she had been intimate with in any way in case they expected the same, or more, the next time.

 _She_ was the one who couldn't get attached – it was unprofessional, dangerous, and could ruin the experience for the client – but with Mamoru, she had jumped in head-first, or perhaps heart-first, anyway. She couldn't do it again, she couldn't go back. Not because he might want to be intimate with her again – she wanted that more than anything herself – but because she knew if she did she wouldn't be able to remember that this was a job. She had fallen into the role of his _someone_ far too easily and even now, she felt it clinging to her very bones.

Even now, she felt her heart throbbing with the need to return.

"I'm sorry, Mamo-chan," she whispered, desperately burying the sob she could feel building in her chest, even as her tears finally began to fall.

"I'm sorry."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course, it can't be easy for them. That would be too boring!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first of 2 actually new chapters (though I suppose they're all new here), so be prepared for another hiatus.
> 
> Also, it took me until this moment to realize that my timeline for Usagi starting college and Mamoru being already in residency makes NO SENSE! Seriously, I can't believe I'm getting a PhD... For the sake of my own sanity and desire for logic, I am retroactively stating that Usagi is around 20, having started college late (both due to a need to make herself a more viable candidate and to help care for her ailing grandmother) and Mamoru is 24/25, having completed college/medial school earlier than most. If that throws off how you were picturing them then completely ignore this! It's in the Author's Note for a reason—you can pretend you didn't even read this and move on ;)

Ultimately, Usagi had decided to skip meeting her friends after her disastrous morning with Mamoru—begging off their plans to study with the not-quite-lie that she felt sick to her stomach—and instead opted to wallow in her bed and pretend that the outside world wasn't continuing to move on as if everything was normal. When Makoto and Ami stopped by later that day with some soup and study notes, Usagi was, therefore, able to pass off her abject misery and puffy eyes as side-effects of a stomach bug, and not a broken heart.

When they left, with sweet words and kind promises to check in on her again tomorrow, Usagi had had to run into the bathroom, afraid she was actually going to throw up. She hated lying to her friends and family all the time, even if she didn't often have to actually make up excuses—they were all busy with school and her loved ones were only too happy to believe Usagi was turning over a new leaf and trying to give her all now that she was in college. Somehow, though, this small lie and perhaps the fact that she couldn't go to her friends and sob out her feelings and frustrations, was the straw the broke the camel's back. Or, at least, her iron stomach. And so, kneeling with her forehead pressed against the porcelain of the toilet seat, Usagi had, for the first time in months, let herself cry: for the girl that she had been, the dreams she'd had to put on hold, the lies she'd had to tell, and the fact that she'd never before felt so alone.

Then she had stood up, wiped her eyes, ate some soup, and made herself do some homework before letting herself fall asleep mid-afternoon with hopes of not waking up until Sunday.

Now, faced with a horrible case of bed-head and morning breath that chastised her for forgetting to brush her teeth, Usagi wished she'd put herself together a little better the night before, or that she could stay wrapped like a burrito in her bed until Monday. In fact, she would have cancelled her appointment today without much guilt, no matter how much it paid, if it had been with anyone but Genjirou.

Even with that incentive, however, she still had a hard time getting through her usual morning routine and would probably have resigned herself to being late if she hadn't known that it would make him worried more than anything else. As it was, she still arrived at their usual brunch place 10 minutes past the time they had agreed on.

"Usagi-chan, there you are! I was beginning to worry something had happened to you."

Walking up to their usual table, Usagi forced her lips into an answering smile and was a bit surprised that it wasn't as hard as she'd thought it would be. Genjirou-ojii-san always managed to make her feel at ease.

"Ojiisan," she greeted, leaning forward to deposit a kiss on the old man's head before settling into her seat across from him, "I'm sorry I'm late. I had trouble getting out of bed this morning."

Genjirou was a small elderly man, somewhere between 80-90 years old (he refused to tell Usagi exactly when he was born—"Everyone likes a little mystery!") with a halo of white hair around his mostly bald head and a penchant for wearing golf shirts (even though he'd apparently never played the sport before—"Playing such a boring sport is dangerous at my age! One's apt to fall asleep and never wake up!"). He had actually been one of her first clients and Usagi had loved him instantly.

As Usagi learned early in their relationship, Genjirou had no living family. His brothers had both died—one overseas and another from an automobile accident when they were young—his wife had died in childbirth with their second child, and his only daughter had recently lost her battle with cancer. That last one had hit him especially hard, and he still teared up often when he spoke of her. Genjirou had apparently been put in touch with the agency by an old business partner and seemed unclear about what exactly a companion was, but from the first it had been clear to Usagi that all he wanted, all he needed, was someone to dote on—something that had been taken away from him for no other reason than that life was a fragile thing. Usagi had lost both her own grandfathers—one before she was born, and the other when she was still quite young. Indeed, she'd found that having this relationship meant as much to her as it did to Genjirou. Now, they met every other Sunday for brunch, a routine she didn't have the heart to break no matter how awful she felt.

In response to her excuse, Genjirou shook his head and wagged a finger at her scoldingly, "They're working you too hard at that University. You are too young to look so tired."

Usagi smiled in response, though it might have come out as a grimace, and grabbed the menu off her plate to stall any further questioning. "Dorm life makes sleeping hard sometimes, Ji-ji, and you know the food leaves much to be desired, but that is all about to be rectified with this brunch. I've been thinking about it for days!"

Genjirou chuckled and waved over a waiter, knowing that Usagi would have her order ready in no-time.

By the time their food had arrived, Usagi did, indeed, find herself growing hungry—a credit to her adopted-oijisan's presence—and happily dug in at his insistence. As always, they discussed her schoolwork, her friends, her health ("Perhaps we should order more pancakes—you have no meat on your bones!"), and her family, as well as the books he read recently, his neighbors ("I do not understand how someone so kind can have such ugly topiary!"), and his predictions for the coming weeks' events and weather ("I think it will rain this week, but that will never stop the festival—we are a stubborn people!").

In fact, Usagi had managed to relegate almost all Mamoru-related-depression thoughts into a back corner of her brain and was even feeling pretty good, all things considered, until Genjirou—having ordered one more cup of tea ("To propel these old bones home!")—leaned forward and squinted his eyes at her.

"Is everything alright, Usagi-chan? You really do look very worn out and you haven't even tried to wipe your fingers through the syrup on your plate!"

Usagi felt herself startle but made one last ditch effort to avoid answering his question, sniffing and pouting her lips, "Oujisaaaaan, you know it's not polite to tell a girl they look tired! And besides, I'm trying to cut back on my sugar intake."

Genjirou, however, did not look convinced and so Usagi placed her chin in her hands with a sigh, "Why are boys so complicated, Ji-ji?"

In response to her question, Genjirou barked out a laugh and slapped the table next to his cup, "Is that what has you down, Usagi? I should have known—nothing makes the eyes droop like trouble with love!"

Usagi felt her lips curl into a small smile despite herself at this response, even as she rolled her eyes. "Oujisaaaaan, this has nothing to do with love!"

Now it was Genjirou's turn to sniff, and he did so with aplomb and clearly years of practice in making others feel foolish, "Please, Usagi-chan, I have seen many things in my time on this Earth and I know the look of love!"

"Now," he said, jumping in before she could, once again, attempt to deny his accusation, "just what kind of issue are you dealing with? I imagine you have your pick of the boys, Usagi—don't spend your time stuck on one if he's not a good egg!"

Usagi mulled over whether to continue her denial and then ultimately decided it wasn't worth it. Genjirou clearly had lots of experience being a man, perhaps he could shed some light on the situation for her!

"He is a good egg, though, Ji-ji! He's kind and smart and funny, and we got along so well!" Usagi fell back into her chair with a huff. "Or at least, I thought we did."

Genjirou regarded her seriously for a moment and then sat forward a bit, placing his teacup gently down after having taken a sip. "Did something happen?"

"I don't know," Usagi shrugged and bit her lip, "I thought for a little while we were on the same page—he looked at me and I was so sure that he felt the same way I did and I felt—" Usagi gestured with her hand and then, unable or unwilling to find the words to explain, let it drop back into her lap with another sigh, "it doesn't matter now. He doesn't want me like I thought he did. I-I was wrong."

Usagi closed her eyes against the prickling of tears in her eyes and swallowed against the mounting pressure in her throat, pressing her lips together to try to gain some control back over her emotions. This wasn't what Genjirou wanted from their time together! She needed to get herself together, she needed to—

Usagi felt a touch on her arm and opened her eyes to a slightly blurry Genjirou leaning across the table towards her with a look of deep concern.

"Usagi—"

Usagi patted his hand with a watery smile and quickly wiped her eyes on her napkin. "I'm sorry, Ouijisan, I don't know what's gotten into me today!"

Genjirou shook his head, "Please don't apologize, Usagi-chan—my mother always said that keeping tears inside just feeds the liver, and that's one organ that doesn't need to grow!"

Usagi hiccupped a small laugh at that and blew her nose into her napkin, gratefully accepting the much less sticky handkerchief he then offered her. "I guess I just feel a little silly crying about this. It's not like we really know each other well anymore anyway, and he didn't lead me on or anything. Not really. I just thought…"

Usagi let herself trail off again, unsure how to finish or how to begin again, unsure how to explain or describe the complicated mix of sadness, loss, guilt, and humiliation churning in her stomach alongside the pancakes she now wished she hadn't eaten. How could she explain why her situation was so complicated? Genjirou still didn't understand the extent of the services _Luna_ 's offered, and Usagi had no desire to be the one to explain it to him, let alone to admit she had gone much further than normal with her most recent client. So then, how could she describe her confusion and sorrow now? How could she communicate to anyone the way Mamoru had made her feel? How safe and yet how reckless, both soothed and electrified, out of her body and yet aware of every lingering touch. How could she begin to say that even as someone who had dedicated much of her energy throughout her life to people and her relationships with them, she'd never felt more wonderfully needed and loved before? And then, after all of that, how could she face admitting that she had done it all already knowing that it would only be hers, _he_ would only be hers, for a night?

And that, that right there, was the real kicker. Usagi knew, when all was said and done, that she had nobody to blame for her aching heart, watery eyes, and twisting stomach but herself. Mamoru hadn't asked for her—how could you get more generic than _blonde_ for god's sakes?—and continuing to hope for more from him, to regret that she couldn't have more, felt like a disservice not only to him and his clear need for a companion, but to the night they had shared together and what she knew it had done for him. Shouldn't she be grateful that she had helped him? That she had had him at all? She knew her friends wouldn't think so, if they knew, and even Genjirou, if she could have willed herself to tell him everything, would most likely not have understood either.

Genjirou nodded, though, as if he _could_ hear everything, and _did_ understand, patting her hand again and then squeezing it for good measure. "Love—big, strong, deep love—hurts even when it's good, but it is never easy when we lose it. But you are strong, Usagi-chan, and I have never known anyone with such love as you. You will be okay."

Usagi felt two more small tears escape her eyes, but she smiled too, squeezing Genjirou's hand back. "Thank you, Oujisan. I think so too."

Wiping her eyes once more with his handkerchief, Usagi made sure to swipe her fingers through the syrup before the waiter could take away her plate, an action that quickly pulled a chuckle from her brunch companion.

After hugging Genjirou goodbye and promising, as always, to sleep and eat more, Usagi headed back to her dorm. She didn't exactly feel better—no, she had a feeling it would take quite a while to heal from this—but as she walked down the street, she did feel just a little bit lighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so my grandpas talked nothing like this, but I adored making Genjirou's character and I hope you all love him as much as I do 3 I also had a lot of fun putting exclamation marks at the end of almost every sentence he and Usagi say—they are clearly two loud, sweet peas in a pod XD


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These chapters were meant to go out in December, to prove (at least to myself) that I did something for this fic during 2020… I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that didn't happen lol But I am putting them out now as a kind of continuing promise that this fic will eventually be finished! I have the whole outline set it's just the writing part that never happens… but I promise it will!

Mamoru had never been one to waste his time doing nothing—one didn't become the youngest resident at the University of Tokyo Hospital by lounging around "relaxing"—but for the life of him he could not remember what he did yesterday after Usagi left. He knew he must have put their breakfast dishes away, moving stiffly through the motions on autopilot, and he thought he may have collapsed onto his couch rather than face his bedroom and its still-tousled sheets, but after that he drew a blank.

He was currently lying on said couch, blinking up at his ceiling as his brain slowly registered that the light filtering in through his balcony doors means that it was now Sunday morning. Did he really spend the entire day yesterday lying on the couch? The twisting, empty knot of his stomach and the way his back protested as he shifted his position slightly told him that, yes, yes he did.

With a groan, Mamoru rubbed his hands over his eyes and then left them over his face, taking a moment to watch the phosphenes behind his eyelids blink and spark across the darkness before fizzling into nothing. _Kind of like your love life, huh?_ he asked himself and then snorted at his own dark humor before moving his arms back to his sides. He blinked away the wetness in his eyes before it could manifest as something solid, something real he would actually have to acknowledge.

With a grunt and then another groan, Mamoru leveraged himself up and then off of the couch, stretching his back out with his hands on his hips and a grimace on his face. "Alright, Chiba," he muttered to himself as he began his slow limp to the bathroom, "time to rejoin the land of the living."

He felt a little better, as he always did, after taking a hot shower, though it quickly disappeared when faced with his closed bedroom door. He stared at the doorknob, frozen, as if by simply wishing hard enough, the contents of his room would rearrange themselves to their state on Friday before – before –

"Get a hold of yourself, Mamoru," he chided himself through gritted teeth before gripping the doorknob hard and pushing the door open. He stood in the doorway for a few moments before letting out the breath he had been holding and stepping inside. The curtains were still open, letting the muted light of morning filter in and across the rumbled sheets of his bed and the few items of his clothing that were still strewn across the floor from where he had left them after helping Usagi into the bathroom Saturday morning. He bent down to pick up his shirt and simply held it for a moment, remembering how he had been so eager to prepare breakfast for Usagi that he had simply skipped his normal morning hygiene routines.

Usagi…

Mamoru glanced at his bed and swallowed the lump in his throat. Moving closer, he stopped in surprise when he stepped on something that crinkled under foot, choking out a laugh as he bent down to pick up the empty condom wrapper, already spotting the other packages that had fallen out of the box in his eagerness to open it before. Without meaning to, his other hand drifted down to caress the sheets and he imagined for a moment that they were still warm. When he realized what he was doing he pulled his hand away as if burned, the wrapper crumpling as his other hand formed a fist.

"Fuck," he muttered, pushing his fingers hard on either side of the bridge of his nose near his eyes, hoping to stave off the headache he could already feel building as he blinked back tears for the second time that day.

Breathing harshly through his nose, Mamoru pointedly turned his back on the bed and threw the wrapper away, stooping to gather the others back into the box, which he then numbly returned to the drawer of his bedside table. He momentarily considered just chucking the whole lot of them in the trash, but that seemed a bit too dramatic for him right now. Better to just tuck them away and pretend they weren't there at all.

With a fortifying deep breath, he continued moving around his room, slowly picking up his clothes and depositing them into his hamper before pulling out clean ones from his closet and dressing himself methodically for the day. He contemplated approaching the bed again—to make it or perhaps strip it, he honestly wasn't sure which would be easiest—but when his stomach flipped at just the thought of doing so, he decided to put it off again until later today. Besides, if it really came down to it, he could spend the night on the couch again. Right?

He was just wondering what on earth he was supposed to do with himself for the whole day—his boss would think he was crazy if he called in asking to work instead of taking the full weekend off that he'd been gifted, but he would give anything to bury himself in his work right about now—when he heard his front door opening.

For one brief, shining moment, Mamoru thought that Usagi had come back. Perhaps she had forgotten something, perhaps she had changed her mind, perhaps she had realized that what they experienced had been something special, something _more_ than just her job and –

But upon sprinting into his front room, he was met instead by the sandy-haired head of Motoki, bent over as he took off his shoes and surrounded by what looked like this week's grocery delivery.

Mamoru did his best to shake off his disappointment and plaster his usual smile on his face before Motoki could glance up—the last thing he needed was his perceptive best friend to start asking pointed questions about, well… anything.

"Mamoru!" Motoki greeted him with his usual wide grin as he straightened up and Mamoru stepped forward dutifully to accept the bags Motoki handed him, "And how was your week?"

Mamoru was pleased his back was now to Motoki as they walked toward the kitchen so his friend couldn't see whatever his face did in response and tried to answer casually, "Oh, you know, the usual."

Motoki hummed in understanding, "Too much work and not enough fun?"

Mamoru snorted derisively while Motoki chuckled at his own wit. If only he knew…

"What about you?" He asked, eager to get the conversation away from himself.

They proceeded to move around each other, putting groceries away as Motoki chattered on about his own week—Reika was gearing up to defend her dissertation in a few months' time and was going crazy in the library, Unazuki had redecorated the arcade (again) in her attempts to gain more customers, and oh, did Mamoru remember Kino Makoto, who used to hang out with Tsukino Usagi at the arcade all the time?

Having mostly let Motoki's words wash over him as he mechanically put things away, Mamoru was so startled to hear Usagi's name that he fumbled the bag of apples he was holding and two went bouncing to the ground and rolled over to Motoki's feet.

"Oops, I've got them!" Motoki cried, scooping them off the ground and doing a rather lame attempt a juggling as he teetered toward Mamoru.

Mamoru set the rest of the apples carefully on the counter and willed his hands to stop shaking. He was probably suffering from low blood sugar, he realized with a start, having not eaten since yesterday morning.

"Ta-da!" Motoki sang, catching the two apples and then bowing toward Mamoru with a silly grin.

"Very impressive," Mamoru murmured, as he took the apples back and busied himself arranging them and the others in the bowl on his counter. "So, um, what were you just saying? About, um, that girl… Usagi?"

"Oh, right!" Motoki swung himself up onto the counter next to Mamoru with a grunt, "Well I was asking if you remembered that whole group of girls. You interacted with Usagi the most – what with all your teasing or, well, let's just call it what is was: _flirting_."

Mamoru glared at him from the corner of his eye, but after giving him a sly grin Motoki continued, "Anyway, one of her friends, Makoto, wants to open her own bakery after she finishes school. She's getting her business degree at the moment, but she wants to try out some recipes with real customers first, so we made a deal and now she's going to sell some of her baked goods at the Crown. Isn't that neat?"

Mamoru glanced up to find his friend brimming with excitement.

"Did you guys write up an agreement?"

Motoki rolled his eyes, "Yes, yes, Mr. Worry-wart. She put her degree to good use, and we wrote up a contract and everything!"

Mamoru snorted, "And did the terms favor you both equally? Or are you basically letting her take you to the bank?"

"Maybe," Motoki shrugged, unconcerned, "but Makoto isn't really like that. And besides, it's her food, why shouldn't she see most of the profits?"

Mamoru opened his mouth to retort—Motoki was far too trusting and one day it was going to run him out of business—but the other man was already clattering his way off the counter and propelling himself into the other room.

"So how are you planning to spend your last day of freedom? Actually, how did you spend your first day of freedom? It's, what, like the first real weekend off you've had since starting med school?"

"I guess." Mamoru walked out to find his friend already lounging on his couch with his feet up, flipping lazily through a medical journal Mamoru had left out.

"Don't tell me you read this all day yesterday?" Motoki asked with a wince, dropping it back on the coffee table.

Mamoru shrugged, "No. I didn't really do anything yesterday."

Motoki's mouth dropped open and he sat up with a start, "Wait. Are you telling me you sat on the couch and did nothing? Chiba Mamoru, have you learned to relax?!"

Mamoru shrugged and shifted uncomfortably, unable to meet his friend's eyes. He couldn't exactly tell Motoki that he didn't actually know what he did yesterday, but it seemed more like he had zoned out in some sort of depressive state than done any relaxing. Well, he could tell him that, but then Motoki would want to know why and while part of Mamoru wanted nothing more than to ask Motoki what he had done wrong—Motoki had always been better with people than him—he couldn't do so without telling Motoki exactly what had happened. Not only would Motoki be shocked and perhaps upset with Mamoru's choice to call a Companion service (he'd probably somehow take it as a sign of his own personal failing as a friend), but Mamoru couldn't explain the real issue without also outing Usagi's secret, and he would never do that.

Besides, as much as he didn't exactly want to admit it, he knew what he'd done wrong: he'd let himself fall too far into the lie. He never should have let Usagi stay in the first place and he certainly shouldn't have let things go as far as they had. He'd never been able to help himself around her and so he really should have stopped things early, while he still had his head about him. But no, he'd become too enamored by the fantasy that she was his—that they were true—that he'd forgotten his reality. His cold, empty, lonely reality.

He must have been silent too long, let something show on his face, because Motoki was standing in an instant and stepping closer to him. "Mamoru, is something wrong?"

Mamoru did his best to clear his face and looked up at his friend with a self-deprecating smile, "No, not really. I think I'm just tired – I didn't sleep well last night. Figures I'd have more trouble resting when I have time off than when I'm working."

Motoki answered his lie with a hesitant smile, but Mamoru could see the worry lingering in his eyes. "Sure, sure. I've always said you work yourself too hard."

Mamoru nodded and, after a moment, Motoki seemed to take the hint and moved back toward the door to head out. He never stayed long anyway – only stopping by to drop off food before heading to work – though this time Mamoru could admit to himself that he had a strong urge to ask him to stay. Even just for a few more minutes to help keep his mind off of… everything.

He was silent, however, as Motoki bent down to tie up his shoes. When he looked back up, Mamoru could see the concern still there.

"Maybe you could find some time to take a lunch at the Crown this week?"

Mamoru knew this was Motoki's attempt to check-in on him, and while part of him wanted to brush it off he knew that if he pushed Motoki away he would just become more concerned and force him to talk. And that would only end badly. He couldn't usually get lunch off, but a few of the other residents owed him for covering some of their shifts in similar situations. In the end, he figured staving off Motoki's worry was worth cashing in a few of those favors.

"Sure," he said and smiled at the way Motoki's shoulders dropped a bit in relief at that simple promise. What had he done to deserve such a friend?

"Alright, I'll hold you to that!" Motoki warned, wagging his finger at Mamoru as he stepped out the door and Mamoru felt a real grin break out at his friend's antics.

When the door clicked shut, however, it vanished quickly. With a groan, Mamoru turned back to his apartment and contemplated his options. He supposed he could turn the TV on to some of mindless crap Motoki was always recommending to him, or he could actually attempt to read the journal he'd left out for himself – there was a fascinating article on the potential antibacterial benefits of a specific bee's honey paired with bone scaffolding in sites of trauma he'd been itching to read. Suddenly, however, the very thought of trying to concentrate on anything made his head start to ache again and he remembered that the first thing he should do is finally eat something.

Of course, when he got to his kitchen – now empty of Motoki's bright energy – all he could remember was making breakfast for him and Usagi to share. He had never really cooked for anyone but himself before. He'd made dinner a few times for Motoki and Reika before he started medical school, but that hadn't held the same intimacy as when Usagi perched on his counter and avidly watched him chopping ingredients.

Deciding to forgo anything complicated, Mamoru rummaged through his cupboards to find some of the instant ramen Motoki always made sure was shoved somewhere in the back – just in case Mamoru couldn't be bothered to make a good meal. He'd just have to get his act together by tonight to meal prep or he wouldn't have anything to eat the rest of the week.

Mamoru carried his ramen out to his table and then stopped short at the memory of Usagi sitting next to him there and jostling him with her elbows as she devoured the meal he'd made for them, making the most adorable and sometimes arousing noises as she ate.

Gritting his teeth – and yep, he really had a headache now – Mamoru bypassed the table and collapsed onto the floor in front of his coffee table, leaning back against the couch with a sigh. At least he could still look at the couch. If he wasn't careful, memories of Usagi were going to drive him out of his home and his mind!

As he sat in silence, slowly working his way to the bottom of his bowl, he tried to sit with the quiet and the empty air and let it calm him as it often had before. Instead, by the time he had finished with his sorry excuse for a meal, he was feeling more frustrated and tense than when he'd first woken up.

Blowing the air out of his nose, he pulled his knees up to his chest and pushed his head between them, holding onto his elbows as he wrapped his arms around himself and tried to concentrate on slowly his heartrate down. He could feel it, thumping harsh in his temples, and he carefully pressed one finger after another into his skin in time with his heart, counting in his head, _one, two, three, four, five, six…_

He felt itchy and tense, tired and drawn. He had for weeks, months, years if he were honest, but it had felt so pressing lately. He wasn't even sure what exactly had triggered it, the looming sense of fear of being lonely _forever_ that had finally pushed him to call _Luna's_ , convinced that if he just sated this need for contact, for easy attention and affection, that he could keep living as he always had. That he could just keep going and be okay. Obviously, _that_ hadn't worked and now he felt worse than before.

It was like he was a child again, waking up in a world devoid of comfort, lonely and afraid, missing something he couldn't even remember having – like a whisper of touch at the back of his mind, taunting him with what he couldn't have and didn't know. Was this his fate? To have something good and lose it? To remain trapped by his own inability to form connections and be unworthy of anything more?

The tears prickled at his eyes again and this time he didn't push them back, listening with detached interest as his breath caught over and over in his throat.

He had had it, he had had _her_ for the slimmest moment of time and now what was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to get up, make dinner, go to work tomorrow, keep going now? He didn't want to feel like this anymore, he was so _tired_ of feeling like this and didn't that count for something? Couldn't the universe give him just that one small inch of relief? He knew what love looked like, what it acted like, even what it meant to, in some measure, receive it. Motoki had taught him a lot about love – had saved him from himself and the darkness he seemed to carry everywhere with him, more times than Mamoru could count – but he couldn't fix everything. He couldn't fix what Mamoru was sure must be wrong with him – something deep inside him that meant he'd always be alone. First his parents, now Usagi – he should have known, shouldn't have let himself think or _hope_ …

Just like before, he was lost and alone again.

Except… except it _was_ different. Mamoru lifted his head with a small gasp, letting the cool air of the room fill his lungs with relief after the closed, humid heat of his own breath in the small space of his curled body, letting himself sit with this new realization as his tears dried on his cheeks.

This wasn't like before because this time he _would_ remember.

He let his head fall back against the couch with a thud and stared at his ceiling with blurred eyes. When he really thought about it, taking a step back from his emotions and focusing on his body, the ache in his chest did feel different then before: it was a full ache – a harsh, bleeding, throbbing ache – not the dull, cold ache of his childhood as he reached for memories he'd never have, feelings he must have felt but couldn't remember. This was the ache of something lost, yes, but not something _missing_. The death of his parents and the loss of his memories had sat like a hole inside him all his life, but Mamoru didn't feel incomplete right now. If anything, he felt too _full_. And that was its own unique pain, yes, but it _was different._ And… and it was _better_.

Mamoru sat with his eyes closed until his breathing evened out and his heartrate slowed down and he was calm again. Or as calm as he could be right now because it hurt and he knew it would hurt for a long time, but maybe that was okay. Maybe it was good even.

Usagi – and wasn't this just like her? – had given him a gift. For one blessed night and one amazing morning Usagi had made him feel loved. She had filled up all his cracks and showed him what it was like to have someone care for him, take care of him, and even if the moment had been short, and even if it wasn't real and couldn't be what he really wanted, he would have those memories tomorrow and the next day and the next.

He _knew_ now and that knowledge, that sense memory, was his forever.

He felt his lips tug into a smile. He thinks Usagi would have been happy to know that she had helped him – she probably already knew, of course, this was her job and she was good at it. No, she was just _good._ He tried not to think about the other clients she would see and the other people she would help and how – he didn't want to tarnish what she had given him.

But… there had to be a way that he could show her what their time together had meant to him, a way to help her in return…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that wasn't too much angst inside Mamoru's head – I just really wanted to explore his headspace after this whole thing because I think it would be a big bundle of confusion and messy feelings. I wasn't even sure exactly where he would end up until I wrote it, but when I got to the end, it felt right!  
> Again, this story is not abandoned, and I love it just as much as I did before – it will get finished! I wish you all the best in the coming new year <3


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